


When They Manifest

by fringeperson



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Rogue's the one with experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27610454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fringeperson/pseuds/fringeperson
Summary: Scott and Jean aren't the first students that Xavier brought to the Institute once he, Storm and Logan had finished building it. Not having that seniority changes the dynamics a little.~Originally posted in '15
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	When They Manifest

“ _I see pathways, probabilities. I predicted what form her powers would take. Not when they would manifest!”_

Rogue shot up from her bed, her breathing harsh as she fought to bring it back under control. An old nightmare. A memory of a vision that had come when she was fourteen, shortly after her mutant powers had manifested while she was doing something as normal and every-day as giving her guardian, Irene Adler (aka Destiny) a hug.

Irene had been down for the count for a good six hours, while Rogue had been assaulted by visions of possible futures, as well as memories of a somewhat twisted past, before she'd managed to drag herself over to the phone. Fourteen might have been young, but it was still old enough for her to be able to tell the difference between being used by Mystique (who had only adopted her because of Destiny's vision of Rogue's future powers, and then had been an extremely absent 'parent') and being  _cared for_ by Xavier.

She'd been the first student at Xavier's Institute. Well, if a person wasn't counting that Storm had still been a university student when she'd met the man, or that Wolverine had needed to get his schooling re-learned/updated, what with having a, ah, a _mild_ case of amnesia.

In the first month she'd been living in the mansion and attending Bayville High, there had been a couple of accidents. She'd gone crashing into Storm when she'd lost her footing amid the construction site that  _would_ be the Institute when it was finished and absorbed the weather witch's powers, which of course Rogue didn't have any experience controlling. That had been almost immediately followed by Xavier, having laid a comforting hand on top of Rogue's hair when she'd finally been able to begin to let the stolen powers go, and he hadn't been properly cautious when removing said hand. He had brushed his bare fingers across Rogue's forehead, and then he was down for the count as well.

Fortunately, that had happened on a weekend, so Rogue hadn't missed any school, and Logan had been there as well, so he'd carried Storm up to the residential part of the mansion – which was at least mostly finished by then – and put her to bed while Rogue pushed the Professor in his wheelchair along behind.

Three months in, there had been another accident. This one of the 'mortal wound' kind. The first trial run of the Danger Room had gone wrong. It was half to be expected, since they were still working out the bugs in the programming of the training space. Wolverine had been hit too. Of course, his mutation meant he healed instantly. Rogue, on the other hand... Well, she'd been caught by some of junk that came flying out of the explosion. Pure bad luck.

“ _She'll never make it to a hospital!”_ and then Wolverine, barely recovered himself, had ripped one of his gloves off with his teeth and pressed his hand to her cheek, and he'd kept it there until the hole in her chest – which Storm had been desperately applying pressure to with her cape – had completely healed up.

Again, thankfully, a weekend incident. There was a whole heck of a lot more to Logan's mutation than he let on.

Now here she was, a whole year later, starting to get kind of comfortable in her skin and really settled in the mansion, which was finally finished, and the high school, where she was keeping up good grades. She even owned some clothes that showed off some of that dangerous skin of hers, and she was comfortable wearing them out. Not to anywhere that would be really crowded or where people might feel like getting handsy, but... normal clothes. Heck, she even owned a bikini that she wore when she went swimming in the mansion pool.

Rogue was (slowly) losing some of her gothic pallor in favour of a more healthy ivory/cream complexion. Not that she was about to start wearing pink or anything. She liked the punk/goth/ice queen thing she had going on, and a bit of powder faded the colour right back out of her face without too much hassle.

She felt good about herself. She hadn't for a while when her mutation had initially manifested, and it had felt like suddenly every piece of clothing was armour and shield between her and everybody else in the world.

It was a school day that day, and Wolverine and Storm had gone out the previous evening to deal with a plot instigated by the Professor's old friend, Magneto. The two may not agree on how to deal with the whole mutant-human relationship thing, but as much history as the two had didn't just disappear. The paint around the building was dry, a professional cleaning crew would be by while Rogue was in class, and then the various knick-knacks would start appearing on the walls and in the halls. Art and junk, to make the place less bare.

Rogue climbed into the shower. It was morning  _now_ and she had school in less than two hours. It was time to wash off the fear-sweat of the nightmare –  _“I predicted what form her abilities would take,”_ – get dressed, have breakfast, brush her teeth, and grab her books ready for class.

“Mornin' Professor,” Rogue greeted across the breakfast bar.

“Good morning Rogue,” Xavier answered with a smile. “What classes do you have today?”

“Biology, math, phys ed, history, art, and cooking,” Rogue reeled off in reply. “Any idea when Wolverine and Storm will be back?”

“I'd ball-park it some time around lunch,” Xavier supplied. “Then... then I'll be going to Anchorage, Alaska, with Wolverine.”

“Found another freak for your funny farm?” Rogue teased with a smile.

Xavier very deliberately frowned at that, but as he knew Rogue's words were in jest, he was also fighting back a smile. “Yes,” he relented. “Scott Summers, he releases a high-powered concussive blast from his eyes. I may be gone a couple of days over the matter.”

Rogue blinked as she took that in. “Tough break,” she decided. “That's gonna be an expensive one any time he slips. I can get away with 'they fell and banged their head' to explain why they're down and not getting up if I have an accident, and their own health insurance will cover the rest.”

This time, Xavier's frown was more in earnest. “I hope you are not being careless out there Rogue,” he said.

Rogue shook her head. “I'm not,” she promised. “I don't want the lives of my classmates in my head. It was crowded enough up there before you taught me how to compartmentalise all of the personalities I've already absorbed.” All four of them, apart from herself.

“Are they giving you any trouble?” Xavier checked, changing gear from censure to concern in a heartbeat.

Rogue shook her head. “Nah,” she denied. “My nightmares are only my own so far,” she assured him as she looked up at the kitchen clock to check the time, not seeing his saddened frown. “Well, I gotta hustle. See ya Professor.”

Xavier nodded in agreement. “Have a good day at school,” he bid her, and got comfortable with his coffee and morning paper.

~oOo~

“You watered my plants while I was gone.”

Rogue's mouth twisted in amusement. “Hello to you too, Storm. Welcome back. How'd the mission go?” she asked.

Ororo chuckled. “We successfully prevented Magneto from hijacking some missiles, but he's still out there,” she answered, and reached out to lay a hand on Rogue's shoulder. Since Rogue was wearing a top that covered her shoulders, that wasn't anything to be worried about. “Thank you, Rogue.”

“You're welcome,” Rogue said, and smiled back. “So... I got art homework,” she admitted. “Think you could stand to pose for me?” she requested hopefully.

The weather witch smiled gently. “I'd be happy to,” she agreed. “What's the project?”

“Representations of deities,” Rogue replied with a sly smirk.

Storm laughed outright at that.

Rogue, knowing the joke, chuckled right along with her.

“Well, I _was_ revered as a goddess while I was in Tanzania,” Ororo agreed. “Best to not make me too recognisable in your project though, just in case,” she advised.

Rogue nodded. “Course,” she agreed. “We need to pick a recognised deity for the project, an' as much as there's tribes in Africa that call you Wind Rider an' worship you, I don't think my teacher would really go for that.”

Ororo nodded in agreement. “Which deity are you going with for this project then?”

“Gotta love the Romans for havin' a god an' a goddess for everything,” Rogue said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Found one called Tempestas, goddess of storms and sudden weather.”

“There never _isn't_ weather,” Storm protested lightly.

“I know,” Rogue agreed. “Believe me, just ten full minutes having your power front and centre... I'm never likely to forget that, even with as crazy as it all was, especially since it's still in the back of my mind, like the hum of the AC just always goin'.”

“When is this project due?” Storm enquired.

“I got a few weeks,” Rogue admitted. “I want to get the composition down quick though. I know what I want it to look like in my head, I just need a reference point while I get the basics down,” she explained.

“And what were you thinking?” Ororo pressed, curious.

Rogue smiled up at the older woman. “Nothing says 'supernatural power' quite like someone supervising the formation of a thunderhead that can fit in their hands,” Rogue stated. “The hard part will be getting the way your hair always just kinda floats around you a bit when you're doin' that.”

Ororo smiled.

~oOo~

“So.”

“Uh...”

Rogue had returned from school to find Professor Xavier returned from Alaska, and Wolverine and the newest recruit back from having enrolled the new teen at Bayville High.

“Did the optometrist give you the most dorky-looking visor on purpose?” Rogue asked. “Because those things make you look like a cyclops.”

“Rogue!” the Professor scolded.

“It's alright Professor,” the boy said. “Really. I'm just glad I can open my eyes without blowing everything to bits all the time. I don't mind how they look.”

“After the adventure you had this afternoon?” Rogue countered a little incredulously, having been told about it when she was introduced to Scott not five minutes ago. “The one-eye look will have earned you that reaction as much as being a mutant. Seriously Professor,” Rogue persisted. “Why the visor?”

“There was some concern that Scott's peripheral vision could be dangerous,” Xavier admitted.

“Huh,” Rogue grunted. “I'm sure there must be more normal-looking styles that would cover that... though, you'd still be getting a bit of a hard time about wearing sunglasses all the time, even if that's not what they really are.”

~oOo~

“... you could see us on such short notice, Charles,” a voice came from the lounge room where guests were entertained. Well, when there _were_ guests at the mansion, which there weren't in general.

Scott hadn't made all that too many friends in his first week at Bayville High, the visor putting off the other kids just as Rogue had predicted. He'd finally gotten some more normal-looking shades the day before though, so that would be one less thing keeping Scott from making any friends.

They'd been running a Danger Room session when the Professor had called it to a halt, saying they had guests.

Wolverine, Storm and Cyclops (Rogue's observation about the effect of his visor had very easily translated into a 'secret identity' for Summers) had gone straight up, but Rogue had elected to get changed. There had been a close call with one of the bladed obstacles. Her uniform would need patching.

Rogue's first thought upon seeing their guests was  _“I wonder what it costs her to maintain that fire-engine red, because that is_ so _not her natural colour.”_ Even if the girl's parents hadn't been both brunettes, Rogue would have pegged the girl as a bottle-red. Naturally red hair came in three varieties – strawberry blonde, carrot-top, and (Rogue's own) auburn. This girl had  _red_ red hair.

Rogue herself just kept some bleach in her bathroom supplies to keep her stripes white, nice and simple. Ororo's hair had turned white naturally, despite her youth. The stress of being constantly aware of every shift in the weather patterns had done that.

“We didn't know who else to call,” the woman said, clearly tense in her seat.

Rogue didn't blame the woman. Wolverine was intimidating even with the cowl down, and for all that Storm was a generally much more approachable person, she was just as capable of being frightening simply by standing around in her uniform and frowning a little. Scott was the only X-man in uniform that wasn't  _standing_ , but strange as  _he_ looked with his dorky visor, having him being on eye-level wasn't exactly any more comforting to the family of three that was sitting on one of the couches.

“When I heard you'd started up this new school, well, I guess I just hoped you'd have an idea about how to helped our Jeannie...” the father said, and trailed off as he noticed a couple of the couch cushions rising in the air.

“Jean, stop that!” the mother begged, sharply but softly.

Xavier answered the father as though he'd not heard the mother. “Yes, certainly. We'll do everything we can for her, John,” he promised.

“Hey Professor,” Rogue called softly as she joined them. “What did I miss?”

“Rogue, this is the Grey family. John and I used to teach together at Bard College,” Xavier presented.

“Known 'em for a while then,” Rogue noted, and looked over to the worried parents and the very tense girl between them. “Pleased to meetcha,” she offered. “So, telekinetic? That's cool,” she offered – and directed that comment to the teen, rather than her parents.

“Ugh, tele _pathic_ too,” the red-head moaned as she kept a hand on her head, as though holding it would alleviate the headache.

“Ooh,” Rogue said with a sympathetic wince.

“Storm, why don't you take the Wolverine, Cyclops and Rogue, and show Miss Grey around the grounds now?” the Professor suggested.

“Certainly, Professor Xavier,” Storm agreed, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Sure thing, Prof,” Logan added, and raised an eyebrow at Scott, who hadn't moved, a dumb, lovestruck look on the visible parts of his face as he just _gazed_ at the red-head.

“No problem,” Rogue agreed as she reached over to Scott and slapped him in the back of the head.

“Whu-what?” the boy asked.

“Tour time Cyke,” Rogue informed him bluntly.

Jean managed a giggle at the unfortunate male's awkwardness as she stood from the couch.

“Is there anything in particular you would be interested in seeing, Jean?” Ororo offered.

“Oh, not really, I -,” Jean tried, then winced slightly. “ _Outside_ , maybe?” she requested.

~oOo~

As much as Scott was actually in the same year as Jean, it was Rogue who ended up being the new girl's designated guide around the school on her first day. Same as she had been for Scott a week before. After all, she'd been attending for a year already.

This meant she was knocking on the girl's door and pulling her out of bed earlier than even Rogue herself wanted to be up. She liked mornings just fine, so long as she didn't have to be anywhere, but this took precedence.

“I don't know how long you're gonna take in the bathroom, but I figure you'll probably appreciate the chance to get the layout of the school before the halls get crowded,” Rogue pointed out.

“Mn, thanks Rogue,” Jean moaned gratefully as she sat up in her bed.

An hour later, and they were at the school office.

“Okay, so timetable,” Rogue started, and handed over a sheaf of three papers. “Locker designation, and an over-simplified map are all there. I'll give you the basics as we go.”

“Thanks,” Jean agreed.

They had time before first period, so Rogue gave Jean the basic round-about of the school campus – cafeteria was  _here_ , this was how the classroom numbering system worked, that sort of thing – while the halls slowly filled.

The five minute warning bell sounded, and the hallways just about flooded.

Rogue saw Jean's shoulders hunch, her frame get tense, and then the involuntary waterworks that came from excruciating mental pain.

Rogue grabbed Jean's wrist before she could bolt and dragged her into a bathroom.

“Out before y'all get puked on,” Rogue ordered the two girls who were primping their hair, and let a little of Logan's intimidating aura loose – as well as used some of his growl in her voice.

They bolted.

“Jean?” Rogue called softly.

The older girl gasped, green eyes going wide in her face as she focused.

“Can you still hear everybody out in the hall?” Rogue asked seriously.

“A solid wall actually does me a lot of good,” Jean admitted weakly. “I can still hear them, but... not as loud. But...” she hesitated, brow furrowing in a question she didn't know how to ask.

Rogue refused to hand out answers without the question actually coming though, so she just waited.

“I can't hear you,” Jean admitted.

Rogue nodded. “Good,” she said plainly. “You shouldn't.”

“No, I know that I shouldn't, but I always _do_ hear everyone's thoughts... so why can't I hear yours?” Jean pressed.

“Because I got lessons from Professor Xavier about how to build walls in my mind,” Rogue answered.

Initially, he'd suggested driving the absorbed personalities out of her mind completely, but confronted with an  _equally_ powerful psychic (himself) well, that hadn't been about to work, unfortunately. Extreme circumstances (in other words, another accident) had also shown that Rogue was able to call upon the absorbed mutations again at a later date, though she had not done so completely at will yet.

Ultimately it was decided that Rogue would best benefit from a bastardised (and more literal) form of compartmentalising. Which meant walls in her mind.

“You'll get those lessons too, I'm sure,” Rogue offered. “I've just been livin' with a telepath for a year already. Storm and Logan can both do it too, calm their minds so there's no noise up there,” she explained with a tap to her head. “You gonna make it today? Or do you think you need to head back to the Institute and have some lessons with the Prof?”

Jean turned to look at the bathroom door, and could practically already feel all the thoughts of all her peers beyond that wall pressing on her, waiting for her to get close enough to hear.

“The Institute,” Jean decided in that moment. “Definitely the Institute.”

“Alright,” Rogue agreed. “Leave me your timetable, either Scott or I will get your work from the teachers at the end of the day,” she offered.

“Thanks Rogue,” Jean answered sincerely as she passed over the paper, then promptly bolted.

Rogue sighed, shook her head, and headed to first period.

~oOo~

Jean had barely been attending Bayville High for a month, and had managed to get her telepathy to turn off, though she still had trouble filtering specific thoughts. She was also already part of the girl's soccer team, on the yearbook committee, and a member of the geology club. That last one she'd gotten onto because Scott recommended it, as he was a member as well.

The ruby quartz that was used in his sunglasses and visor had gotten him interested in the possibility of other minerals having similarly useful properties.

Rogue, on the other hand, didn't _do_ group activities. Not if she could help it. She'd never really been a joiner, or a follower. Not before the X-Men, and apart from when she was forced into 'group activities' by a teacher in class, that was her only exception.

Not that it had been much of a one for the first year. The age-gap between herself and the others that Xavier had gathered had initially kept her firmly in the category of 'student' rather than 'peer', until the accidents. Even after though, she still had to go to school while Storm and Wolverine went out, and the Professor handled the various administrative issues about the place.

But then Scott had showed up, and he was older, and then Jean, who was initially fragile. So when Logan took off, Scott took it upon himself to be 'leader' of their little team.

The Wolverine left the Institute fairly regularly. Sometimes he was looking for answers to the hole in his past. Sometimes he just needed to be on the move, roughing it away from civilisation. Man wasn't exactly the standard 'settling down' type. The Institute was his home, and he'd come back to it from wherever his travels took him, but he would travel.

Privately, Rogue thought that the arrival of Scott and Jean had been what drove Logan off. His travelling itch had always been fairly well satisfied with training trips and the occasional “we need to stop Magneto again” outing when it was just the four of them in the mansion. Not that she said as much to anybody else. Or even thought it when she was hanging around with Jean, though she knew that the girl wouldn't be able to pick it up from her head. Still, precautions.

For all that the girl was preppy and had become quickly popular once the Professor had taught her how to turn her telepathy off, she still had some self-esteem issues. Probably part of why she dyed her hair that incredible red.

“The Sadie Hawkins Dance is in a couple of weeks,” Rogue commented to Jean as they walked to school.

“What's that?” Jean asked.

“It's the school's big annual dance, apart from the prom, but the rule for it is that girls are supposed to ask the guys. Of course, some girls don't ask outright, but more insinuate it to their boyfriends that they want to _be_ asked, and of course there's the folk that go without any date at all,” Rogue explained. “You should ask Scott,” she added.

“What?” Jean nearly yelped.

Rogue shrugged. “I'm not gonna,” she quipped with honest frankness. “I mean, he's cute an' all, but for a guy who can make a skylight for a building just by taking his shades off, he's  _way_ too normal for me.”

A week of having his company around the Institute without anybody else their ages to really distract had given Rogue plenty of opportunity to get to know the guy. He was a nice guy, really he was, and she could appreciate that nice guys were a rare thing these days, but it was possible to be a nice guy without being so damn clean cut and starched.

Rogue hadn't been raised around clean cut, and she sure as mud hadn't been raised around the starched sort. She was a Mississippi girl. The southern states were much more relaxed. Not always as nice (though sometimes a lot nicer, so that part balanced out), rarely as clean, and practically never starched.

Cyke hadn't displayed even the thinnest sense of humour in a week. No way could she realistically deal with that sort of personality directly for any great length of time, no matter how cute he might be. Guy needed a buffer, and even a blind person would be able to see he was taken with Jean.

“You're sure...” Jean queried cautiously.

“Positive,” Rogue affirmed. “Ask him to the dance, then go and have a good time. Just don't tell me about it when you get back.”

Jean frowned. “Why not?” she asked, concerned.

“Because until I get control of my skin, I'm not likely to be goin' to any of these things,” Rogue explained. “I'd just as soon not know the specifics of what I'm missing.”

Jean smiled weakly at that. “Alright then,” she agreed.


End file.
